


Sending A Message

by ivebeenpossessedbysatan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel's Family is Rich (Supernatural), Castiel's kinda sassy, Castiel's still cool tho, Former Military Dean Winchester, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Injuries, Or at least his inner monologue is, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Prompt Fic, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sorry Not Sorry, Whumptober 2020, i can't believe that's a tag, mostly hurt tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:09:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26810434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivebeenpossessedbysatan/pseuds/ivebeenpossessedbysatan
Summary: Castiel Novak didn't expect to be kidnapped. Sure, he'd seen it happen before, but that was all in movies. Just because his mother had married into money didn't mean that someone was actually going to kidnap him and try to ransom him for money.Only apparently it did, because here he was, tied to a chair in the corner of the most cliché warehouse he'd ever seen.Why was this is life?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester (eventually)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. Prompt 1: Let's Hang Out Sometime (Waking Up Restrained)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! It's been a while. I'm trying to get back into writing, so I decided to start with a little by trying to do Whumptober! Woo!
> 
> Anyways, this is gonna be all one story, with each chapter being a different prompt.  
> These are not meant to be stand alone. If it works as a stand alone, it's was a fluke. It's all gonna be one part of a bigger story.  
> I'm gonna try for daily updates, but no promises. I'll update tags/characters as I post.
> 
> So anyway, enjoy! Please don't hate me. It will have a happy ending.
> 
> Each chapter title will be the prompt!
> 
> Unbeta'd, and only barely edited. Sorry for the typos! Point them out, and I'll get around to fixing them at some point.   
> Also, if anything here is incorrect, I apologize. I did a little research, but most of it came from Wikipedia so I can't guarantee the source.

Castiel woke up with a start, like a bucket of ice-cold water had been thrown over him. He gasped and looked up to see someone standing in front of him. They were wearing black clothes and a mask, so Castiel couldn’t see their face, and holding a bucket that still had water dripping out of it.

Okay, so bucket of water had been thrown over him. That helped explain the liquid dripping from his hair and clinging to his eyelashes. Instinctively, he raised his hand to wipe it away, only to feel his arm stop after moving two inches. That confused him, so he tugged again, and heard the clank of metal on metal. Oh. Well. That made sense. He shook his head instead, trying to dislodge the worst of the water, and immediately regretted the decision when it made his head pound, causing a wave of nausea to wash over him. He turned his head to the side and immediately vomited.

He heard someone jump back with a hiss and footsteps walking quickly away with a harsh word. The person must have approached him when he wasn’t watching. He might have thought it was funny, if his head would stop pounding long enough for him to think clearly. He could hear people talking, but they were too far away, and he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He took a few deep breaths, spitting out the taste of vomit, and went still. Finally, his head cleared enough for him to understand brief snatches of the whispered conversation.

“...might have gave him a concussion, why didn’t you just use the bloody…”

“I’m sorry, but I panicked! You know this is my first time! You just told me to make sure I got him.”

“Well, getting him here isn’t going to matter if he ends up fucking dying!”

Castiel tuned them out, his head hurting too bad for him to try and follow the argument. He couldn’t remember getting here but judging by the whispered conversation and the pain in the back of his head, well. He was going to assume that one of the two people talking outside had hit him in the back of the head with something and then had taken him. A simple and efficient way to get something done, if a little barbaric. He carefully raised his head, looking around to get a feel for the kind of space he was in.

He was a large room, from what he could tell from the dim lights hanging overhead, tucked into the back corner. The lights flickered every now and then, adding to the overall mystery and dingy-ness of this place. Perhaps they were in a warehouse of some sort. He didn’t see a door, or any windows, but that didn’t surprise him. He couldn’t see much with the lighting being what it was. He could, however, see three people standing off to the side, the two that were arguing and one that wiping himself with some sort of cloth. That was probably the person that Castiel had thrown up on. That one looked over at him, and the glare that was sent his way was enough to confirm that fact.

Now that he’d gotten a basic outline of the area, he took a chance to look over himself. He was still wearing pants of the suit he’d worn this morning, but the jacket, the tie, and the beige trench-coat were missing. He was sitting in a hard, metal chair, and his hands were handcuffed behind his back, and his legs cuffed to the legs. He turned his head slowly and rubbed his face on his already soaked shirt. The material was cold, but at least water wasn’t running down his face anymore. It was still dripping out of his hair, though, but without his hands there wasn’t much he could do about that.

The people were still talking, but they’d lowered the pitches of their voices now that he was showing signs of being awake. Not that he cared much about what they were talking about. Chances that it would help him were slim at best. It might help him figure out why he was here, but he seriously doubted that they would be stupid enough to give away any information on how he could escape. And while the why of the matter was probably important, he had a feeling they’d be telling him soon enough. They’d woken him up for a reason, after all. All he had to do was wait and try to ignore the pain in his head.

Eventually, one of the three people (not the guy that he had thrown up on) broke away from the group and started towards Castiel. His heart picked up involuntarily, and he took a deep breath to fight the rising panic. Now was not the time to freak out. Castiel watched them approach, but they bypassed him without so much as a second glance. He thought that the body type had been feminine, but the baggy clothes, face mask, and imperfect lighting he couldn’t be sure. He turned his head, trying to watch them, but the chair must have been bolted to the floor, because it didn’t move an inch.

Footsteps made him turn back forward (slowly, so he didn’t make his head throb) and he saw the other two approaching him. They were dressed similarly to the one that had passed him, and Castiel forced himself not to react as one of them stopped in front of him. This one was a man, he was sure of it. He was thin compared to his companions, his clothes baggy and there was something red poking out of the collar of the shirt he wore. He smelled like he hadn’t showered in days, a disgusting mix of body odor and sweat that made Castiel nauseous all over again. He reached out, and then there was a soft, gloved hand touching his face. _Leather_. he thought, as he fought the urge to jerk his head out of the grip.

“So pretty.” He said, in a nasty, nasally voice, running a thumb over his lip. Castiel swallowed bile and glared at him but didn’t react further. He had no idea what happened to the other two, but when that thumb pushed into his mouth, he couldn’t help himself and bit down. Hard. The guy let out a yelp, and Castiel only had a moment to feel satisfied before something hit him in the side of the face, snapping his head to the side. He felt the blow in his entire body, and he was sure it would have been hard enough to knock him out of the chair. The pain in his head doubled, tripled, and became the only thing that Castiel could feel for several moments, until everything faded, and Castiel went limp in the chair.

When he came to a few moment’s later, the first thing he registered was the taste of bile and the wave a nausea coming up. He barely had time to pitch himself forward (his arms protested) as he vomited once more, this time on the ground in front of him. That didn’t help the pain in his head, and Castiel was pretty sure he passed out for another few seconds. When he came to for the second (third?) time, there were hands touching his face and the back of his neck. Checking on him, maybe? He couldn’t be sure.

“I swear to God, if you lay another finger on him, I will gut you myself! He’s not here for you to _play_ with, you ingrate!” Someone was yelling. It was a woman, he was sure of that, and she had a thick British accent, and right now it was laced with anger. Castiel hung his head carefully, trying to breathe through his mouth. There was vomit on two of the four sides of him now, he was still nauseous, and the smell was _not_ helping matters. He was tired, too, and his head was killing him, a constant throb behind his ear.

At least he’d missed his shoes.

Castiel wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep, but he knew that was a stupid idea. He’d already passed out twice, and if he did have a concussion, well. He needed to be awake. He forced himself to look up and almost started when he saw the someone standing slightly to the side, watching him. There was another bucket in his hands, presumably full of water. Castiel watched him warily, afraid that he was going to throw it all over him once again. He was still shivering from the pain, vomiting and the first dousing, and he knew another one would only make it worse.

Much to his surprise, though, the third person came closer and tossed about half of the water onto the floor, right on top of where Castiel had thrown up the first time. He barely had time to move his feet before he threw the rest of the water on the newer spot. While it didn’t completely wash it away, it greatly reduced the smell, which made the nausea a lot better.

“Thank you.” Castiel said, daring to look up. He was fairly sure this one was male, too, but the was even more slim than the first one, though his clothes did fit him better. Castiel could see something red poking out of the collar of the black hoodie he wore, but he couldn’t tell exactly what. It didn’t really matter, he supposed. It wasn’t like red shirts were rare, if that’s even what it was. It wouldn’t give him any clues as to where he was or what he was doing here.

Castiel didn’t even know how long he had been here. It could have been anywhere from a few hours to a few days. He didn’t want to engage with his captors, especially not the larger guy, but he might just have to if wanted to know the extent of the shit he was in. Either that, or he’d have to pay better attention when they spoke. They were bound to let something slip sooner or later. No, asking was better. He’d ask the third one, the small one. He’d been nice enough to sort of clean up the vomit, maybe he’d answer some of Castiel’s questions.

A loud creaking noise surprised him, and the looked up in enough time to see the creepy guy disappearing through a side door that was exactly opposite of Castiel’s corner. From what he could see, the sun was bright, which meant it has at least been a day. The last memory Castiel had was getting out of school in the afternoon. The door slammed, and Castiel was left alone with the woman and the smaller guy. He couldn’t say that he exactly minded.

An hour or so passed, and if was becoming increasingly obvious that neither of them were coming over to talk to him. He’d seen the smaller guy give him a couple of curious looks, but the woman looked more bored than anything, and was playing some kind of game on her phone. He could hear the sounds, the beeps and electronic cheers whenever she won. The pain in Castiel’s head had lessened a little, now that he was no longer getting knocked around, and it was becoming a little easier to think. He was mostly unharmed, from what he could tell. With an obvious exception for his head.

Castiel started testing his restraints, trying to be subtle about it and probably failing miserably. His arms weren’t tied to the chair, and neither was his body. Just his feet, and the cuffs there were just around the legs, not around the supports. If Castiel could get the legs of the chair up, he could slip right of. There was enough give in all the restraints that he could have stood if he’d have wanted to. His arms would have still been behind him, but it was something. It was more than he had before. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any give in the chair.

Even so, Castiel felt better. It felt good knowing he wasn’t completely helpless.


	2. Prompt 2: In The Hands Of The Enemy (Kidnapped)

Dean stepped out of the car, the door creaking as it closed behind him. He glanced up at the enormous mansion and the sprawling grounds before him, all guarded by a huge gilded gate. Dean whistled lowly as he stepped up to the intercom and pressed the button labeled talk. The first time he’d been to one of these places he hadn’t been sure where to go or what to do, but he’d been to enough now that he knew the drill now. Most of his clients were rich, after all.

Though he’d never had a client that was quite this rich.

Richard Roman was firmly in the top one percent, and Dean had been so surprised when he got the email from the man himself that he’d almost spilled coffee all over his laptop. Why would a mogul like Richard Roman need a bodyguard? He had a host of security people already. Getting close enough to talk to him was like trying to run through quicksand. Dean knew from experience.

The intercom crackled. “Yes?” a voice asked, sounding a mix of bored and annoyed, and Dean grinned, pressing the button.

“Dean Winchester. Mr. Roman is expecting me.” He said. There wasn’t a response, but the giant gate did start to slowly open, and Dean grinned as he walked back to his beloved car and slipped behind the wheel, slowly rolling through the gates (they started to close the moment he was clear) and up the sprawling sidewalk. The estate was even bigger than he’d thought, and it took everything he had not to gape at it as he pulled up the sidewalk. The driveway came to a circle, and Dean saw a man standing off to side, just under the shade provided by the truly substantial entrance.

Dean was a professional, though, so he managed to not look surprised as he parked the Impala and stepped out, placing the keys in the pocket of his leather jacket. The moment he was out of the car, the man approached him with a few quick steps.

“Mr. Winchester. I’m George, and I’ve been sent by Mr. Roman to collect you. If you’d just come with me.” The man didn’t wait for an answer, just turned and started up the staircase. Dean hurried to follow him, even if the amount of stairs were a little daunting. Dean kept in shape, the job required it, but he still ate too much pie and too many burgers for the climb to be easy for him.

He was proud he managed to not collapse by the time they reached the top. George didn’t stop until he was inside of the doorway, turning so abruptly that Dean almost ran into him. “Mr. Roman will be in his office.” He said. “And he’s a very busy man. So if you wouldn’t mind…” He jerked his head and Dean stepped inside, feeling mildly insulted. He’d only stopped in the first place because of him.

George ushered him up the stairs and down to the right, to a door at the end of the hall. He knocked twice, waited a moment, and then stepped inside.

“Mr. Winchester for you, sir.” He said, with a bow. Dean followed him inside. The moment he crossed the threshold, George stepped behind him, though the door, and left, closing the door behind him. Dean raised an eyebrow at the display, but didn’t say anything, turning to face the huge desk that took up the room.

“Mr. Winchester.” Roman said, standing up and coming around the desk with his hand out.

“Mr. Roman.” Dean said, grasping the hand and shaking it.

“Please, call me Dick.” He said and gestured to the seat in front of him. Dean sat down as Dick moved back to the other side of the desk.

“So, my rates. I normally charge five hundred a night, but if it’s consecutive I’m willing to look into knocking a few dollars off…”

“Mr. Winchester. I must apologize for bringing you here under false pretenses.” Dick said, making Dean frown.

“What? You don’t have a job for me?” he asked, incredulous. After he’d come all this way…the amount of money he’d wasted in gas alone...

“No, I do. But it’s not…it’s one of your normal jobs.” He said, steepling his fingers together.

“What kind of job is it?” Dean asked, immediately cautious. Shit like this never turned out good.

“My stepson has been kidnapped.” Dick said. “In order to get him back safe and sound, they want me to pay them one million dollars.” Dean’s jaw dropped at the number, and he immediately started laughing.

“I’m sorry, but a million dollars?” He asked. “That’s like, chump change to you. I’m pretty sure you have cars worth more than that…”

“I do. My net worth is in the upwards of the 3.2 billion. But that’s not the point.” He said. “The point is, someone was imbecilic enough to kidnap a member of my family, and I need you to find him, bring him home, and bring the parties responsible to me.” He said. “I need to send a message, Mr. Winchester. I’m sure you understand.”

Dean did understand. Dick Roman was very rich, very connected man. He had fingers in so many pies (both legal and illegal) that there was no way he could let this go. The kidnappers must have hoped that by demanding such a low number, that Dick would just pay it and be done with it. Obviously, they were wrong.

“And you can’t involve the police because you want to send this message.” Dean guessed and watched as Dick nodded.

“Exactly.” He said. “This is…personal.”

Dean seriously doubted this was about the kid who was missing. Dick didn’t seem like a family man. This wasn’t about family. This was about sending a message about what would happen if you fucked with Dick Roman.

“Mr. Roman, with all due respect, I’m just a bodyguard, I’m not sure I’m qualified for…something like this.” He said.

“Mr. Winchester. Let’s not pretend here. I’ve seen your file.” He tapped a manila envelope that Dean hadn’t noticed until now. “Graduated top of your class at West Point. Ex special forces. Your team specialized in finding POW’s. You rescued…” He flipped through the file. “Thirty-seven hostages.” He said. “Over the course of five years. Two tours. You’ve got a Distinguished Service Cross and a Bronze Star with V merits. That’s quite a record, Mr. Winchester.”

“That was a group effort. Plus, I had the resources of the United States Military at my disposal…” Dick started laughing, cutting Dean off.

“Of course you did. And you’re telling me you no longer have any of those contacts, Mr. Winchester?” He asked.

Dean frowned. “No, I’m not saying that, I’m just saying…”

“Do you think that I can’t get you anything you need?” Dick asked, eyes sharp.

“No, of course not. But I haven’t been…”

“Mr. Winchester, let me be frank here.” He got up. “You’re the only man that can do what I need you to do with the upmost discretion. You’re smart, you’re calculated, you’re driven, and you’re loyal. All qualities that I admire.” He leaned against the desk in front of Dean. “You don’t even have to get your hands dirty, if that’s what you’re worried about. All I need you to do is collect Castiel and his captors and bring them to me. I’ll handle the rest.” Dick’s stare would have been unnerving for someone who hadn’t seen the things that Dean had seen.

“Look, Mr. Roman… “

“Dick, please. I insist.”

“Okay, Dick, I appreciate the offer, but I just don’t think that I’m the man for this…”

“Oh, and I forgot the discussion of payment. Silly me.” Dick said, and Dean snapped his jaw shut, almost fed up with being interrupted. “I’m prepared to give you, and each of your…team members, a million dollars. Each.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “Each?” he asked. He could do so much with that money. Pay off Sam’s school loans, pay off all the debt that his father had left behind, maybe even be able to start restoring classic cars…the possibilities were endless.

“Each, and I’m prepared to give you a half-million-dollar bonus for just accepting the job. So that you can purchase everything you might need.” Dick crossed his arms. “As I said, Mr. Winchester. This is about sending a message. I could care less about the money. I could spend a million dollars on a nice dinner.” He held out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Dean licked his lips. He still had Charlie’s number, and she could get him the rest easily. If she wanted to get involved. Even if not, he could go to Ash. Come to think about it, having both of them probably wouldn’t hurt. He looked down at the offered hand and reached out to grasp it. “You’ve got a deal, Mr. Roman.” He said.

“Excellent! I knew we’d come to an agreement.” Dick smiled, wide and shark-like. Dean nodded, and hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake. The kid had just been kidnapped, after all. How difficult could it be to get him back?


	3. Prompt 3: My Way Or The Highway (Held at Gunpoint)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to make it clear that the Sam mentioned in this chapter is Samandriel, not Winchester. 
> 
> No beta, all mistakes are mine. Point out any typos and I'll probably fix them. 
> 
> Enjoy <3

Castiel was bored.

They never talked about this part in any of the television shows or movies that he’d been forced to watch over the years. They didn’t talk just how boring it was to sit tied to a damn chair with nothing but his thoughts to entertain him. He wished he had a book, or a pen, or even a television. He was certain watching static would be more entertaining than watching British pick her nails or Small Guy fiddle with his gun.

Then again, white noise had bothered him ever since his brother made him watch _The Ring_ so maybe that wasn’t the best idea, either.

He figured it had been at least a day since he was taken, and other than Creepy touching his face, he hadn’t had contact with anyone else. (Besides the vague memory of hands touching his neck after Creepy had hit him. But he’d been so out of it he could have just made that up in his head.)

His hair, shirt and anywhere else he could reach had long since dried, which eliminated the possibility of getting any water out of them. Honestly, it was probably a good thing. He had no idea where that water had come from. And the last thing he needed was to get sick because he drank contaminated water.

He thought about asking for some, but Creepy had since come back and Castiel wasn’t eager to draw attention to himself. He didn’t want to think about what Creepy would ask him to do for a couple of swallows of water.

He wasn’t that desperate yet.

British had been in and out, and Small Guy had been there the entire time. Castiel may be wrong, but it was almost like he was afraid to leave Castiel alone with Creepy. If that was the case, then Castiel was grateful. He had enough shit to deal with. He didn’t want to have to worry about fighting Creepy off. Based on what he had observed from the brief snatches of conversations they’d been having, British was ringleader. She’d organized his entire operation, and had hired the other two the equivalent of muscle. Not that Castiel would count Small Guy as muscle.

Castiel was jerked awake (when had he fallen asleep?) to the sound of the door slamming closed. He looked up to see Creepy strode in, and make a b-line towards where British sat, looking down uninterestedly at her phone.

“You said that it wouldn’t take long for daddy for cough up the money.” Creepy said, his voice nasally and unpleasant as it had been the first time Castiel had heard it. “It’s been two days since we took him, and a day since we sent the video and the message. What’s taking so long?”

“I never gave you any guarantees about time spent.” British said, her voice bored. She didn’t even bother to look up from her phone.

“Maybe it’s taking him some time to get the cash?” Small Guy said hesitantly.

“Or maybe Daddy Dearest doesn’t think we’re serious.” Creepy said turning to look at him for the first time since Castiel had bitten him. He couldn’t really see his eyes, but there was still something about that look that made Castiel’s stomach drop to his knees. “Maybe we should send him another little film. See how quickly he ponies up the cash once I start cutting little pieces off.” Before either of the other could react, Creepy was striding towards him, pulling a long and dangerous-looking knife out of a holster attached to his side.

Castiel did his best not to let his fear show on his face. Castiel had known people like Creepy. If they ever got the idea that you were afraid of them, well. They would never give up. Castiel glared as the guy strode up to him and dropped into his lap, fisting his hair and forcing his head back.

Castiel was proud of himself for not making a sound, despite the way throb of his head.

“What should we cut off first, hmm?” he was asking, drawing the back of the knife down his throat. “Perhaps we’ll send him an ear – a fitting gift for your father, don’t you think?” Castiel focused on keeping his breathing even as the knife traced over his ear. “All the better to hear you with, my dear.”

This guy was insane. There was no if, ands, or buts about it.

“Or maybe a finger, we have ten of those. We could one off for every hour it takes him to get the money. Ten hours for ten fingers.”

“That’s not what we’re here for.” British hissed. She was standing behind them now, and Small Guy was few feet behind them both.

“No, well, maybe your way isn’t working, Lugosi.” Creep said sharply, not even bothering to glance back. “Besides, I promise I won’t kill him. Where would the fun be in that?” He tugged down the bandana that was around his face and leaned forward. Castiel felt what was unmistakably a tongue run up the side of his throat. Castiel suppressed a shiver as nausea washed over him. “I’ll just mark up this pretty face a little.”

The sound of a gun being cocked brought everyone to a standstill.

“G-Get off him.” Small Guy said. He was standing off to the side of them. His voice might have been hesitant, but his hands were steady, and that what mattered.

“Oh, little Sammy, have you finally grown a pair?” Creep sing-songed, apparently unbothered by the site of the Beretta pointed at his head.

“This isn’t what we agreed to.” Small Guy’s (Sam?) voice was a lot steadier this time.

“You know, you shouldn’t point those things at someone if you don’t plan to use them.” Creep said, his eyes narrowing, but the hand fisted in Castiel’s hair started to ease up.

The gunshot took them all by surprise.

Creepy jumped back, letting go of Castiel’s hair and almost falling out of his lap. British had jumped, but she was standing too far back for it to have been meant for her.

And Castiel was staring at the perfectly round little hole that had been made in the side of building, close enough for him to notice that it was dark outside.

The gun was still smoking.

“I’ll use it if I have to.” Sam threatened, and Creep stood up, apparently deciding that he wasn’t lying. He glared at him for a moment, then he smiled.

“Of course. Whatever you say.” He said, giving him a bow. “It was all in good fun. I’d never actually hurt him.” He cast another look at Castiel and met his eyes, then pulled the bandana back up around his face before he slid the knife into his holster and walked off, whistling tunelessly.

Sam held didn’t drop the gun until Creep had walked out the door. His hands were shaking as he put it back in the holster.

“We can’t let Al watch him alone.” British said, rubbing one of her hands on her face. Sam nodded. “We’ll switch off until we know something for sure.” She walked back towards the chair she’d been sitting on sitting on it heavily and pulling her phone back out. Sam hesitated, looking over at where Castiel sat, but eventually, he followed her over there and sat back down.

Castiel let out a slow breath. As terrifying as that situation was, it had also been enlightening. He knew his captors’ names now. Creep was Al, and he’d said that British’s name was Lego-something? Luigi? No, Lugosi. And Smaller Guy was Sam. And they’d kidnapped him so that they could ransom him off to his father.

Or, if Castiel had to guess, his stepfather, since his actual father was nothing but a down-on-his-luck author who drank too much. He didn’t have two quarters to rub together, most of the time. So, they must have been talking about Dick. Castiel and his stepfather didn’t get along that well, but Dick was well-known in the world of business for being shrewd and cutthroat. He didn’t take it well when people messed with his property.

Castiel knew he was considered part of his property.

He wondered how much they’d asked for. Not that it mattered, because Castiel was sure that it wasn’t going to get paid one way or another. No, paying would have been too easy. If he paid up, then that meant that he’d lost, and Dick Roman was not a man that lost. Castiel was almost positive that the ransom wouldn’t be paid. Dick would find another way to get him out of here, one that meant that he could show the world that he was not a man to be trifled with. Castiel just hoped that whatever it was happened before his captors decided he wasn’t useful anymore.


	4. Prompt 4: Running Out Of Time (Collapsed Building)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, only barely edited. Let me know if you find a mistake and I'll correct it at some point.
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean waited until he got back to his hotel room before he pulled out his phone and dialed one Charlie Bradbury. He wanted to be able to look over the file while he talked to her. Dick had given him everything, including the flash drive that contained the ‘proof of life’ video. He hadn’t stuck around to watch it. If he was going to get this done, he was going to need her support and expertise. She’d been his eyes and ears while they’d been in Iraq, and then again in Afghanistan, right up until the government had screwed her over for daring to have a girlfriend. There was no one else that Dean trusted more.

She answered on the second ring.

“You’d best be calling me about LARPing next weekend.” She said, in lieu of a greeting.

“Hello to you, too, Red.” Dean said, unable to keep the smile off his face.

“Hello. Now, come on. We’ve been planning this weekend for months now. And what kind of queen goes into battle without her handmaiden?”

“I thought we agreed I didn’t have be your handmaiden anymore after I rescued you from the orcs?”

“You’ll always be my handmaiden, Winchester. Even if you’re not actually my handmaiden anymore.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that.” Dean said. “Look, I hate to cut to the chase, but I need your help.” He could almost feel the mood change and heard the unmistakable screech of sitting up in a computer chair.

“For you? Help is my middle name. What’s going on?”

“Well, Dick Roman just hired me, but it’s not for the kind of job I normally do.” Dean knew that he’d got her attention now.

“Ooh, I’m getting Bond vibes. What does he want you to do?” She asked.

“Long story short? His stepson was kidnapped, and he wants me to get him back.”

“Which one?” She asked, and Dean heard keys clacking in the background.

“Which one what?”

“Which stepson? He’s got like, four.”

“Oh, right.” Dean should have realized that. “The youngest. Castiel.”

“You said Castiel?” She asked, then went silent for several moments. “Oh, _wow_. He’s dreamy.” Dean frowned and flipped open the file. There was a picture paperclipped to the top of the file, and oh, yeah. Dean had to agree that Castiel was attractive.

“I thought you were a lesbian.”

“I am, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind.” More clacking in the background and Dean waited, knowing Charlie was probably pulling up the very same file that he had in his hands. (Dean wasn’t quite sure if Dick had already had this file on hand before Castiel was kidnapped or whether he put it together after but wasn’t about to ask) “Okay, so. Castiel James Novak. Born September 18th, 1997 to Charles and Naomi Shurley. No criminal record, juvenile or otherwise. Graduated top of his class from Pontiac Prep. Currently on scholarship at the University of Chicago.” She hummed, impressed. “Let’s see…Looks like Naomi divorced Chuck when he was three and legally changed both of their last names to her maiden name, Novak. And then she met Dick ten years later. Happily married ever since.”

“Happily?” Dean asked, the skepticism dripping in his voice.

“Well, they’re still married, and Dick is paying what I guess is going to be a large sum of money to get her son back so I’m basing it on that.” She said. “How much is he paying you, anyway?”

“A million dollars to every member of the team I use to get him out.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “Plus, he’s gonna wire me a half million to offset the costs of starting this operation.”

“How much was the ransom again?” Charlie finally asked.

“They only asked for a million. My guess? They hoped the low number would mean that Dick would just pay to not have to deal with the rest of it.”

“I guess it’s not going to work out like they wanted it to?”

Dean snorted, cradling the phone between his face and ear as he tried to dig his laptop out of his bag. “Nope. Dick told me he didn’t care about the money.” He finally got the laptop out and set it on the table. “He wants to send a message. Plain and simple. That’s why he can’t go to the cops.” Dean started the computer and plugged the flash drive into the port. “I’m gonna send you the video they sent along with their demands. Could you work on getting a location for me?”

“Did Hermonie end up with the wrong person? Of course I can.” Charlie said, indignant. After a moment, she started to say something else and but faltered.

“Charlie?” He asked, his hand hovering over the keyboard.

“I’m here. Just uh…what all did he ask you to do, Dean?” She asked, her voice hesitant.

“Nothing else.” He assured her. “Or I wouldn’t have taken the job. I’m past that, Charls. I promise.”

There was another brief silence on the other end of the phone. “Okay. If you’re sure. I just worry about you.” She said.

“I know. But I’m good, Charlie. I promise.” Dean clicked over to Charlie’s email and uploaded the video, then sent it. “Okay, I just sent it let me know when you get it.”

“Did you use the laptop I gave you?”

“So that I had it hooked up to a secure server so that no one else can see what I sent? Yes, Mom.”

“Young Padawan, I have taught you so well. And that’s queen to you, bitch.” There was the sound of typing and then. “I got it.”

“Yeah, yeah. My _queen._ Let me know when you’ve got something?” He got up and went to put the flash drive in his safe just in case his computer was compromised in some way. It was more of a precaution than anything.

People told him that he was paranoid. He told them they were right.

“You know I will.”

“Thanks, Charlie.” He said. “And uh, one more thing?”

“I’m not renewing your porn subscription.”

“Ha ha. No, it’s just…have you heard from Sam lately?” He asked. There was a long silence.

“I have. He’s doing good. Just got into law school. With a full ride. And he’s dating some girl named Jessica now. She seems sweet.” Dean’s throat was suddenly very tight, and it took him a second to be able to speak.

“That’s…good to hear. Thanks, Charlie.”

“You know, I’m sure if you just called him…”

“Yeah, he made it pretty clear last time that he never wanted me to do that again.” Dean said, pinching his nose.

“Dean, that was two years ago! Both of you have changed…”

“Charlie, please, just…drop it.” Dean said. “If Sam wanted to contact me, he would. My number hasn’t changed.”

“But if you two would just _talk…_ ”

“It’s not gonna happen, Red.” Dean said. He’d long since come to terms with that fact.

“I’ve gotta go, I still have to call Benny.”

“Fine. I’ll let you know when I get a location. I love you.”

“I know.” Dean said, the words making him smile. The phone went dead and Dean dropped it, leaning back into the couch cushions and wiping his eyes tiredly. After a much needed moment to compose himself, Dean dialed Benny’s number. It rang four times and then switched over to voicemail.

“Hey, man, this is Dean. I’ve got some tickets to see my favorite team play, I was just wondering if you wanted to go with me. It’s supposed to be a good game, though we’ll have to be careful because we’re sitting on the fifty-yard line. You know how the fans can get. Anyway, call me back and let me know what you think.”

They’d had the code set up for as long as they’d known each other. To anyone else, it would sound as if Dean was inviting Benny to a game with him, but Benny would understand the implications. He’d told Benny that he had job for them, that it was well-paying, and that it was only going to two of them and Charlie.

While he was waiting, though, he was going to do his job. He started out by dragging his laptop over him and starting to watch the copy of the ‘proof of life’ video that he had saved on his laptop.

It opened with a camera on an obviously unconscious Castiel, slumped forward in a metal chair. The room was barely lit, and Dean couldn’t see anything but him. Then a black boot stepped into frame and threw a bucket of water all over Castiel, who woke up with a start, gasping and sputtering. The boot started walking over to him, and someone else stepped into frame with a newspaper dated for yesterday, when Dick would have received the video. Dean paused the video, and quickly wrote down the name of the paper.

Dean didn’t know if they were stupid enough to use a local newspaper or not, but it was a lead, anyway. One quick google search told him that the _Vindicator_ was a newspaper serving the residents of Youngtown, Ohio. Of course, they could have just picked up the news paper in passing, but even that gave him a direction of travel.

Castiel had been taken from campus somewhere between noon, when Castiel got out of his Western Civ class, and two, when the English class he’d never made it to started. Dean’s best guess was that they grabbed him somewhere around one. Youngstown was a six-hour drive southeast from Chicago, which would have put them getting there around seven pm in order to buy the newspaper.

Dean pulled up a map on his laptop and zoomed in on Youngstown. Dick had said he received the video around four that morning – someone had managed to sneak onto the property and trip the alarm system. They’d found the package leaning up against one the posts on the porch. Assuming whoever had kidnapped Castiel had sent someone back to place it and given the fact the Dick’s mansion was a few miles outside on Pontiac, that meant that they had to be less than an hour from Youngstown. Actually, it had to be even less than that because even if they had the place set up before hand, it would have taken time to get Castiel inside and set up.

Dean was willing to bet that Castiel was being held somewhere in Youngstown.

His initial search only showed up an abandoned movie theater, and Dean knew from the video he wasn’t there. Plus, that was one of the more famous abandoned places, and Dean didn’t think that the captors would want to draw attention to themselves like that. There were a handful of abandoned mansions and one creepy-ass hospital, but none of them looked like anything that had been in the video. Then he came across the abandoned factories.

His initial thought had been for the t-shirt factory, but that had been demolished for over a year so that definitely wasn’t it. He searched for a few more minutes, and finally stumbled upon a drone video that was a couple of years old. The longer he watched the video, the more positive that this was the place that he was looking for. Sure, it was in a more residential area, but the property was huge and there was a lot of trees and other growth in order to hide in.

After studying the two videos, Dean was able to make an educated guess as to where Castiel was being kept. There was a long building almost in the middle of the property that had collapsed in on itself in one section, and from the glimpses Dean could see, there were no windows in there, and it would have been painfully easy to section off if someone had wanted to make a windowless room.

Dean didn’t believe for a moment that this had been coincidental, or a crime of opportunity. Whoever had taken Cas had been planning this for a while, otherwise they would have never gotten close.

Dean’s phone rang, and he glanced at the caller ID before he answered.

“Benny. It’s a been a while.”

“Hey, brother. It has. It’s always good to hear from you.” Benny’s accent washed over him and it was always enough to make Dean smile.

“Same to you. So what do you think about the game?” Dean asked, cutting right to the chase.

“Do you know where it’s being held?” Benny questioned.

“Ohio’s playing. I think it’s a home game.”

“Is that right. When does it start?”

“Tomorrow, I think. It’s an important game. Do you think you can swing it?”

“Well, I’m not one to turn down a free invitation.”

Dean relaxed, smiling to himself. “I’m real glad to here that, Benny. You know the games are never the same if you’re not there.”

“Yeah, and there’s no one there to rub your face in it when you lose.” They both laughed.

“If I lose.” Dean said. “You wanna meet up and head out together or do you want to just meet me there?”

“Nah, I’ll come to you, we can go together.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll see if I can’t get Red to find you a flight.”

“You do that, chief. I’ll see you soon?”

“See you soon, Benny. Don’t forget to come prepared. You’re not drinking all my beer again.”

“Way ahead of you, brother.”

“Awesome. See you in a few.”

“See you.”

Dean hung up the phone and sat down, navigating back to his email so he could message Charlie about arranging Benny’s flight. Then, when that was done, he shut the laptop and leaned back. So far, everything was going right. In a few hours, Benny would be here and then he and Dean would head out to go rescue Castiel Novak and bring in his captors. Dean was ready.

It was going the be the easiest million dollars he’d ever made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now know way more about Youngstown, Ohio, than I ever thought I would. 
> 
> Perks of being a writer, I guess.


	5. Prompt 5: Where Do You Think You're Going? (Failed Escape/Rescue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't get this posted yesterday. It came out to be about 2800 words longer than I intended it to.
> 
> Unbeta'd, all mistakes were made my me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean set his duffle bag on the bed, giving the room one last once over to make sure he got everything before zipping it up and moving it to the floor. Getting ready to leave never took Dean very long. He’d been in and out of them his entire life, after all. And he didn’t have that much stuff, anyway. If there was one thing about that could be said about John Winchester, he’d at least taught his sons to pack light. It had been an important lesson in both his professional and personal life.

Dean never stayed anywhere long enough to grow roots. The nature of his job allowed him to travel and Dean took advantage of it. Staying around the larger cities gave him both the access and the anonymity he craved. Generally, if Dean stayed anywhere for longer than a couple of weeks he started to get antsy. In another life, when Dean had first gotten back from Afghanistan, Dean had made it a point to go and sleep on Sam’s couch for a few days a couple of times a year. That was before the fight, and before Sammy kicked him out and told him to never darken his doorstep again.

Dean shook his head to clear it. Waiting was always the worst part of jobs like this one. Waiting meant downtime and downtime meant his brain was going to dredge up all the things he’d rather not think about. He still had a few hours before he had to be at O’Hare to pick up Benny. From there, they’d head towards Youngstown in Baby, because did NOT do airplanes. Charlie had managed to find and book Benny a nonstop flight from Louisiana to Chicago. Luckily for the two of them Benny wasn’t afraid to get on one of those flying metal deathtraps.

Benny’s flight left at two, and Dean had to be at the airport to get him by six, and they’d leave from there headed towards Youngstown. It was about a six hour ride, which would give them plenty of time to come up with a more detailed plan than the rough one that Dean had sketched out in the file. Plus, it would give Benny time to get affiliated with the mission, which was never a bad thing.

Charlie hadn’t been able to get much of anything off the video, but she had agreed with the results of Dean’s brainstorming session. She’d managed to find them the original blueprints of the factory, including original buildings. It had changed likely over the years, but hopefully not by much. Dean had already printed out what he needed and circled where one of the central buildings had collapsed. They’d check there first and then fan out.

Dean yawned and stood, gathering all the papers and putting them back into the file he’d created, then took them over to the safe. He opened it, placed the file next to the flash drive, then shut it and changed the combination. He didn’t think anyone would be coming in to get it, but Dean had learned his lesson about assuming when it came to things like this.

Dean still had a few hours before he had to leave to get Benny, so he decided to take a nap. He didn’t normally splurge to stay in a nice place like this, so he was going to take advantage. His bag was zipped up and ready to go, so all he had to do was grab it and then they could leave. Before he let himself collapse on the bed, though, he took the chair from the desk and wedged it under the doorknob. The ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign was on the back of the door, but he wanted to make doubly sure he wasn’t interrupted.

Dean set an alarm for five on his phone and then lay down on top of the blankets with another yawn. A power nap would be exactly what he needed. He slipped his hand under the pillow and settled it on the grip of his Colt, feeling better knowing it was there. His gun was probably his second most prized possession after his car.

Dean yawned again and closed his eyes, tightening his hand on the grip of his gun before relaxing and letting sleep take him.

****

One of the bolts holding the chair to the floor was loose.

Castiel could feel it every time he shifted. It was on a front leg on the left side closest to the wall. It hadn’t been that way when he’d gotten here, so he figured that it must have happened during or after the assault from Al.

Castiel could still feel the salvia on his neck and no amount of rubbing it on his shirt could take that feeling away. Logically, he knew that anything that had been there was gone, but it wasn’t about logic at this point. His ear was still prickling, too. Like he could still feel the knife as it circled around his ear. Rubbing didn’t take that sensation away either.

He was careful not to do either of those things while Al was in the room, though. The last thing he wanted to do was show his creepy ass that he had gotten to him. He knew that would make the torment worse. Luckily, he’d grown up with Gabriel, so he was a pro at not reacting to things that bothered him.

The attack did have one benefit, though. It had seemed to remind his captors that he was human and was therefore subject to the same needs and desires as one. Namely, the need to drink. He wasn’t really concerned about the food. He’d gone longer without on purpose, but God he was thirsty. As soon as Al had left the first time, Lugosi had gone and come back a couple of minutes later with a bottle of water and had given it to Sam to give to him.

He didn’t particularly like drinking the water while someone else was holding it, but it was a sacrifice that he had to make. At least Sam went slow, and was careful not to spill any of it, even if it would have been refreshing to be able to scrub as this neck.

So now here he was, rocking back and forth just enough to hopefully work the chair a little looser while he stared out the hole in the wall that Sam’s gun had made when he’d fired it between him and Al. He’d watched it change from day to night, and now he was faced with a totally different problem.

He had to urinate. Which sucked because he hadn’t exactly seen any bathrooms in the area. He wasn’t above peeing behind a building or on a tree, but he’d need his hands to do that. Unless, of course, he wanted to piss all over his pants. (Spoiler alert: He didn’t)

He thought about asking one of his captors, but it was Al and Lugosi in there with him right now, and he’d sooner let his bladder burst than to let Al come anywhere near him. Luckily, after the attack, he seemed to keep his distance, though he did stare a lot. But Castiel decided that he’d much rather have Al watch than touch him. Lugosi didn’t seem like the ‘take the captive to the bathroom’ type, so he’d just have to wait.

Castiel tried not to sleep, but it was inevitable. Even with Al’s dead, beady eyes glancing over at him every few minutes, he found himself nodding off. It was unsettling to startle himself awake and find Al’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t help it. He’d been through hell in the past however long it had been and, the only sleep he’d gotten had been because he’d been hit him in the back of head with some kind of weapon.

Castiel jerked very suddenly, opening his eyes. He glanced around, but there wasn’t anyone there besides Lugosi and Al, who was watching him once more. Maybe that creepy ass stare had been what woke him up. He didn’t know for sure, but he really didn’t like the self-satisfied smiled on the creep’s face.

He looked out of the hole instead, though it did almost no good. He couldn’t see anything resembling a shape out there that could give him some indication of where he was. The only things he could tell was when it was dark and when it was light. He knew that right now it dark, even if there was a slightly blue sheen to it that came by the courtesy of the moon.

Castiel wanted to see it. He’d been stuck in this chair for at least a day, and he wanted to look at the moon. He wondered if he moved closer and got a better angle if he could. The wall was relatively close to the chair, so he leaned closer. Hopefully, it would look like he was trying to rest his head against the metal. Before he was taken, he was an introvert who would have very happily never set foot outside again. Now he was willing to risk being hurt by either himself or his captors just to see a little moonlight.

He didn’t expect to see the shadow cross in front of the hole.

Only a lifetime of not jumping when scared kept him in his position. If he ever got out of this, he was really going to have to sit Gabriel down and thank him. It must have been Sam walking back to take his position. They seemed to change every few hours, though he’d definitely noticed that Sam was there more than the others. At least he hadn’t jumped. He bet Al would have had a field day with that.

A few moments later, Sam entered, but not from the side he should have. He’d noticed the door that was on the other side of the room, but he’d only seen them use it once or twice. Castiel looked back at the hole in the wall. Was someone else here? Was there a fourth person that Castiel hadn’t met yet? He looked up, watching Lugosi and Al for a second but they didn’t seem concerned. Which meant that the two of them either knew they were there and were unbothered by it, or they didn’t know. How could Castiel find out which was correct?

He was just going to have to take a chance. None of them so far had mentioned a fourth partner, so Castiel was going to have to hope and pray that the people that were outside were friends. He took his chance after Al stood up to go use the bathroom or sleep or whatever the hell they did when they weren’t in this room with Castiel. Lugosi appeared to be nodding off in her chair, her phone still clenched tightly in her hand, and Sam was fiddling with his gun. He licked his lips and cleared his throat.

“Um, excuse me?” he asked. Using his voice for the first time in a little over a day felt weird, but he ignored that feeling when Sam looked up curiously. “I have to use the bathroom.” He said, his eyes glancing over to Lugosi. She seemed more awake, but still not extremely interested in what was going on. Sam glanced at her, maybe asking a question, and she made a vague waving motion with her hand before returning to her phone.

Sam picked up the keys and an empty bottle and brought them both over to him. Shit, this wasn’t going to work if they tried to make him go into the bottle. He needed to get outside, or at least somewhere that wasn’t where he was right then.

Sam bent down behind him and Castiel felt the cuffs release for the first time. He slowly brought his arms forward, shaking them out. He glanced up when Sam tried to hand him the bottle. He looked at it, and then at Lugosi, and then finally at Sam.

“Is there any chance of you allowing me to go outside?” he asked, looking back at Lugosi for effect. He wasn’t actually that shy, but maybe if he played up like he was, then it would get him where he wanted to go. “I won’t run, I mean, I don’t even know where we are.” He said. “You can even keep me handcuffed, just…” he glanced at her again.

“Just take him outside and let him piss on a bloody tree!” Lugosi burst, rolling her eyes. “I’m tired of listening to him. And it’s not like anyone knows where we are.”

Castiel would have been offended if he wasn’t so excited. He’d said less than twenty words the entire time he’d been there. How could she already be tired of listening to him? He pushed that thought away, though, and focused. He couldn’t believe that it had worked, even as Sam bent down to unlock the handcuffs that were around the chair. He put the two free ends together, turning them into makeshift shackles that would keep him shuffling. Then he handcuffed Castiel’s hands in front of him and helped him stand up.

Castiel didn’t expect for standing up to be difficult. Sitting down with limited movements had made him all but forget about the head wound, but upon standing it came back with a vengeance. He swore and swayed, only staying upright because Sam was there to help him.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, looking concerned as he kept him from falling over. Castiel nodded and closed his eyes, trying to make the room stop spinning. He felt better after a second, and then opened his eyes back up. He looked down and took a shaky step forward. He had to do this. This could be his only chance to get out of here, and he couldn’t very well lose this chance on account of a head wound.

It was a good thing that they had to move slowly. Sam kept a steady hand on his arm as they walked out. He even pushed the door open for Castiel. He didn’t appreciate being coddled, exactly, but it might be advantageous for him to pretend like he needed it. Weakness would likely make Sam let his guard down.

It wasn’t quite cold outside, but it wasn’t warm, either. The moon shone full and brilliant and Castiel wanted nothing more than to stare at it, but he had a plan. Sam didn’t lead him to a tree, like Lugosi had suggested. Instead, he led him to a spot between the buildings, and stood to the side. Castiel listened carefully even as he undid his pants to pee, but the longer he went without hearing anything other than Sam’s careful breathing, the more he lost hope. Perhaps he had imagined the shadow?

Castiel wasted as much time as he could, but eventually, he had to zip up, otherwise Sam was going to get suspicious. Besides, he hadn’t exactly been making an attempt to be quiet. If no one had heard him, then no must be there. He didn’t even realize how much hope he’d had until it was crushed.

He dragged his feet a little on the way back, looking around to get a better view of their location. He couldn’t see much except for a van parked off in the bushes. Probably the van they’d used to get him here, though he couldn’t really remember. They had just rounded the corner of the building when Sam suddenly stopped and looked around. Castiel waited, confused for a second, then he heard it, too.

The crunch of gravel.

It could be Al, and Castiel knew that. But now was his chance. He wrenched himself out of Sam’s grip and shoved him hard into the metal wall. It reverberated loudly, but Castiel was already moving. He couldn’t go very fast, but he knew he had to disappear before Al and Lugosi decided to investigate.

He went back the way they’d come, rounding the corner and looking over his shoulder. He hadn’t heard Sam get up yet, but he couldn’t be worried about that. He had to keep moving.

He headed towards one of the brick buildings, trying desperately to get out of sight. He glanced over his shoulder one more time, and when he turned forward again, he ran directly into a warm body.

His first thought was that it had to be Al, and he shoved away, fighting desperately at the arms as they reached out to encircle him.

“Woah, woah, easy there, buddy.” The voice wasn’t Al’s and Castiel stopped fighting long enough to look up. His head was still spinning, but after a moment, his vision cleared. “Are you Castiel?”

Castiel nodded, looking up at the man that whose arms he was in. The moon cast an eerie glow about them, but it was light enough to allow Castiel to see high cheekbones, full lips, and freckles, along with a crooked grin.

_My hero._ Castiel thought deliriously, and wondered how he knew his name. He knew he’d never seen this man before. He’d have remembered someone that looked like this.

“Heya, Cas. I’m Dean. You dad sent me to get you.” Dean informed him, which just confused Castiel more.

“Chuck?” Castiel asked, still feeling out of it.

“No, Dick. Sorry, should’ve said stepdad.” He smiled, and Castiel couldn’t help but think that he had a beautiful smile. Of course, he didn’t realize that he’d said that out loud until Dean chuckled.

“I’ll ask you that again when you’re safe. Are you hurt?” he asked, and Castiel belatedly realized that the man’s (Dean’s) hands were sweeping over him, checking for injuries.

“Just my head. I-I think they hit me with something when they took me.” He said, and felt the fingers move up. He hissed when they touched the sore spot and jerked his head away.

“Yeah, sorry about that. You’ve got quite a goose egg back there.” He said. “Can you walk? I can take you to my…” Castiel never got to know where Dean was going to take him, because it was at that moment that all Hell broke loose.

Castiel felt Dean grab him and pull him around the side of the building. He covered Castiel’s body with his own, and subsequently forced the back of Castiel’s head to hit the wall. Castiel tried to cushion the blow, but it still made his ears ring and his vision swim. He was aware enough to hear the bullets as they hit the brick wall, where they had been standing moments before. He could feel his head pounding from the second (third?) blow.

“Cas, how many are there?” He half yelled, as bullets continued to pound the brick they were hiding behind.

“What?” Castiel asked, still trying to make himself focus. The nausea was back now, and while he was trying to breathe through it, Castiel realized that the pounding he kept hearing wasn’t in his head. His head had somehow gotten onto Dean’s chest, and it was Dean’s heart that he was thumping staccato under his ear.

Dean had a nice chest.

“Dammit, Cas, how many people were holding you?” Dean asked, looking around the corner and firing off three shots before he took cover again. Castiel slumped the moment that Dean moved, and slowly started to slide down the wall. Sitting helped, even though his head was still pulsing, and he was able to concentrate enough to answer Dean’s question.

“T-Three. Two males and a woman. She was British. They called her Lugosi.” He said, ducking as more bullets flew. Those couldn’t be from Sam’s Beretta. Whatever was shooting was semi-automatic, Castiel was almost positive. Maybe Al had a semi-automatic.

That was a terrifying thought.

“Okay, Lugosi. How many guns did they have?” Dean said, making Castiel look up at him, even though it was hard to focus on anything.

“Just one that I saw. The smaller guy, Sam, he had a Beretta. He shot a hole in the wall.” Castiel’s head was swimming again and he couldn’t really see anymore, so he closed his eyes.

“Well, that’s definitely not a Beretta.” Dean said, echoing Castiel’s thoughts, which made Castiel giggle as he leaned against Dean’s leg. His thigh was nice, too, though it didn’t have the same heat as his chest.

Everything about Dean was nice.

“What’re you laughing at?” Dean asked, looking down at him.

“We thought the same. About the gun.” He said, now wrapping an arm around Dean’s leg.

“Okay. Just how hard did you hit your head?” He asked, seeming to forget about the gunfight for a second. He knelt down and cradled Castiel’s head gently, trying to look him in the eye. Castiel let himself be handled, smiling at the concerned frown marring Dean’s features.

“I think whatever is going on is more than a concussion. Shit.” Dean said, pulling a radio out of the pocket of his shirt, one hand still cradling Castiel’s head. All at once, Castiel shoved him away turned to the side, throwing up for the third time since he’d been taken.

God, he hated vomiting. Dean had pulled his hand back while Castiel was puking, so he wasn’t touching him anymore. He pulled his knees up shakily and tried to cross his arms for a moment before he remembered they were still handcuffed. He rested his elbows on his knees instead and pillowed his head on his upper arms. He was shivering from the vomiting and the cold and the pain, and he felt Dean’s warm hand on the back of his neck.

“Oh, Caaaassssieee? Where are you, pet? I know you’re hiding somewhere!” Castiel heard Al’s voice calling and jerked in fear, looking up.

“Who’s that?” Dean asked, taking an almost protective stance in front of Castiel.

“Al. He has a knife.” Castiel said, fear making him shake even harder. He was in no shape to run or fight back.

“You said Al?” Castiel nodded. “Well, he’s also got an AK, so I think the knife is the least of our problems at the moment.” Dean said, biting his lip. The footsteps got closer, and Dean put a finger to his mouth, warning Castiel to be quiet.

“If you come on out, Cassie, I promise I won’t hurt you. But if you make me find you…” The implied threat was enough. Castiel started to push himself into a standing position, but Dean stopped him with a hand on his arm and a violent shake of his head.

“Who’s your friend, Cassie? I have to say I’m almost jealous. You glare at me every time I come near you, but you’ll run into the arms of the first man you see? Am I not good enough for you?” Al’s voice was coming closer. He was close enough that Castiel could hear his footsteps, and that made Castiel press himself further into the wall. He really, really, _really_ didn’t want to be found. “Come on out, now, Castiel, and maybe I’ll leave your friend alive, too.”

Dean was pressed up against the side of the building, his gun in his hand, still crouched protectively in front of Castiel. But Al kept moving, his boots crunching over the gravel, making Castiel got more nervous with every step.

When Al rounded the corner, Dean shouted, “Cas, go!” and there were two shots, followed by a spray of gunfire. Castiel heard twin shouts out in pain and looked back to see Al and Dean rolling on the ground, wrestling for control on of Dean’s gun. The AK was in the grass behind them. All he could see was Al straddling Dean’s waist, his hands wrapped around the muzzle and tilting it towards Dean’s stomach. There were a lot of squishy parts in the stomach. If Dean got shot there, his chances of survival were low.

Castiel pushed himself up, trying to ignore the fresh wave of throbbing pain in his head, and forced himself towards them. He knew he didn’t have the coordination to grab or kick the gun out of his hand, so he just dropped his shoulder and tackled Al, shoving him off of Dean. The gun went off, and Castiel could only hope he’d managed to get there in time to keep it from hitting anywhere vital.

His own bout with Al was short. Maybe if he had been fully in control of his body, he would have put up a better fight, but he was weak and hungry and thirsty, with a two day old head injury. He never stood a chance, and Al pinned him easily.

“Oh, trying to save your boyfriend, Cassie? I’ve gotta admit, he’s very attractive. Maybe once I’m finished with you I’ll take him for a spin.” There was a hand around his throat, and Castiel brought his hand up weakly, wrapping it around Al’s wrist. If he was going to go, he wasn’t going to go quietly.

Castiel heard a vehicle approaching, and both him and Al looked up in time to see it screech to a stop just feet away from them. Lugosi threw open the back door.

“Get him in here, we have to go.” Castiel felt Al shift off him and looked over to where Dean was lying in the grass, trying desperately to reach his gun. “The police are on their way.”

“Cas, no! Let him go, you bastard!” Dean yelled, holding a wound on his side as the stretched towards the gun. Al just laughed.

“Sorry, but we’ve got a date. I’m sure you understand.” He cackled, grabbing Castiel under his arms with surprising strength and hauling him into the back of the van.

The last thing Castiel saw of Dean was his fingers closing around the ivory handle of his gun. Then Al slammed the door shut and Sam punched the gas. Al looked down at him, a triumphant grin on his face, then the back glass shattered, and Al let out a yowl that sounded like a wounded cat. He fell onto the floor beside Castiel, a large, bloody wound in his shoulder.

It seemed Dean got the last word after all.


	6. Prompt 6: Please...(Stop, Please)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long it's been. I don't have a good excuse other than life. But hey, it's here! Right? Right.
> 
> No beta, all mistakes are mine, and there are probably a lot of them so if you see any, point 'em out and I'll fix 'em later.
> 
> I did research, but if anything is wrong, take it with a grain of salt. Google can only be so helpful.

Well, the rescue mission had not at all gone according to plan.

Picking Benny up from the airport had been easy. They’d easily developed the same rapport that they’d always had while they loaded Benny’s one duffle bag into the Impala. It was like no time had passed at all.

Even the six-plus hour drive had been easy. They’d spent a couple of hours catching up, and the remaining time filling Benny in on the case and ironing all the wrinkles out of Dean’s plans. Since Benny had flown, he hadn’t been able to bring any of his own weapons.

Luckily, Dean had plenty to share.

They’d stopped a little bit down the road from the factory. It was in a surprisingly residential part of town, but the property itself was huge, so he imagined that it didn’t really matter, since any screams would have been muffled. Plus, if Castiel had been asleep or passed out when they brought him there then he wouldn’t have known where they were, or how close to civilization he actually was.

He was probably going to hate himself for it when they found out. Survivor’s guilt was a bitch like that.

They had stashed the Impala off in the trees and approached the factory on foot. Once they’d reached the first building, they’d split up to search them, just to make sure that no one was in there. All of them were empty, and together, he and Benny had met back up right around a brick building that was in front of the one they needed to go to.

A couple of silent gestures was enough to send Benny around the far side of the building while Dean came around the front. He didn’t see any actual doors, but the metal was new and shiny looking and definitely out of place with the decrepit buildings surrounding it. According to the building plans, there shouldn’t have been a structure in that spot at all. Which almost guaranteed them that they were in the right place.

It had also meant that this was premediated and not spur-of-the-moment. They’d planned this long before it had happened, which confused Dean a little. Why would they make such easy mistakes if they had taken such care to set up and execute the plan? Dean was good at his job, but he still shouldn’t have been able to find them as easily as he had. Not if they were professionals. Then again, maybe they were just pretending to know what they were doing. After all, all it took was one little mistake for everything to unravel. Most of the time it was what Dean counted on.

Dean was heard gravel crunch behind him, and only had a moment top press himself up against the building before someone rounded the corner. They were clad in all black, and even though they were less than ten feet away, Dean couldn’t make out anything about them, except that they were shorter than he was. Dean held his breath as they walked by and disappeared inside a door Dean hadn’t seen until it was opened.

Dean had let his breath out as soon as the door closed, feeling lucky they hadn’t seen him. Then he’d carefully made his way away from the little metal building just in case. He didn’t want to push his luck at not getting noticed twice. Once he was away, he noticed Benny slinking away, too, and they had regrouped around the side of a collapsing brick building.

Neither of them had been able to see inside the structure, and that made Dean uneasy. He hadn’t expected to not know anything about situation they were heading into. They knew from the video there were at least two people that had him captive, but there could be a lot more that. Two on two weren’t good odds, anyway, even if Dean and Benny did have surprise on their side.

They would have to split up again, approaching from two different directions. After some discussion, they had decided to wait a while and see if they could learn anything else. It wouldn’t be difficult to hide, especially in the dark, and more information could have been crucial. Benny had gone around to watch other side, while Dean stayed in the cover of the brick, hidden by shadow.

Luck had been on their side, because not even ten minutes later Dean had seen someone open a different door (how many doors had they put on this place?), and step out, heading around to the far side of the building, where Benny was hiding. His immediate reaction was panic, but he forced himself to be calm. Benny knew what he was doing. He’d be safe.

There hadn’t been a way for Dean to tell if it was the same person from earlier or not. They were too far away, and they had been wearing all black, too. Dean watched them head towards one of the buildings on the other side of the property they hadn’t checked yet. It must be where they were staying whenever they weren’t occupied with Castiel.

Dean had known better than to radio for Benny while he was hiding, so he kept watching, hoping there would have at least been a struggle if he’d been caught, one that he would have heard. He hadn’t had a safe way of checking on him, though, not with the whoever it was out and about, so Dean didn’t have a choice but to trust that Benny was smart enough to get out of that on his own.

Dean had been pondering his next move when the door opened, and Dean’s heart had picked up when he saw two people step out, one supporting the other. The taller one had to be Castiel, because he wasn’t wearing anything but a messy dress shirt, while the other one was clad in all black.

Castiel’s hands were also handcuffed in front of him. Dean hadn’t been able to tell at the time, but his feet were shackled, too.

Dean had frowned, wondering what they were doing, at least until Castiel had turned towards the side of the building and the captor turned away, almost like he had been trying to give Castiel some privacy.

That made sense. Captives had to pee, too.

Dean had recognized that right then was his best chance to get Castiel. He was outside and only guarded by one person. If Dean was to get the jump on him, well. Then maybe he could get Castiel away from there and then Castiel could tell Dick who had taken him and then they’d be home free.

Even if Dean didn’t get the full million, getting Castiel out was top priority. Decided, Dean crept closer to the scene, careful to stay out of the guard’s line of sight. When they started walking back, Dean would strike.

So long as Castiel kept his mouth shut, they’d be home free. And if he managed to get at least one of the captors, well, that was just gravy. There were all kinds of ways that Dick could come up with to make him rat out his co-conspirators.

Dean had no doubt that Dick would use them all

Dean had moved to the back of the building while he was waiting for Castiel to finish. But it took him much longer than Dean would have thought. Like he was wasting time or something, and, from what Dean could see, he kept shooting glances of behind him when he thought the other guy wasn’t looking. Did he know Dean was here? Was he trying to give him an opportunity?

Finally, Castiel had zipped up and leaned heavily on the guard as they walked back towards the building. Dean waited five seconds and then followed him, careful to make his footfalls silent on the gravel. He was close. Another few feet and he would have him. Dean’s heart was pounding as he waited, ready to round the corner and take him out.

Then footsteps had stopped.

Dean paused mid step, listening, and watching as the guy look around. This close, he could see that it was probably a dude, and he was kinda scrawny. But he had to have good instincts if he had heard Dean, despite how careful Dean was being.

Fuck. He didn’t want to face him without the element of surprise. That could give him time to warn his accomplices.

Then Castiel straightened up just a little and his hands shot out, shoving his captor into the side of building and taking off, his gait ungainly due to the shackles around his feet. Dean winced as the metal reverberated as the guard hit it. That was going to let someone know that something wasn’t right. Dean had watched for a moment as Castiel headed away from the building, towards the opposite side of the property.

Away from Dean.

Dean hadn’t wasted any time weighing the pros and cons, just took off after Castiel, determined to intercept him. He couldn’t come up from behind him, because he didn’t want to tackle him, so he aimed to run around the other side of the building Castiel was running towards. Dean had never really been a runner, but luckily Castiel was incapacitated and wasn’t going very fast, so that made getting in front of him easier.

Dean had grunted when Castiel hit his chest and immediately began to fight.

It was uncoordinated and sloppy, but Castiel was trying his damnedest to get away, and if Dean hadn’t locked his own arms over Castiel’s then he probably would have succeeded. He was obviously scared and desperate, but the moment Dean spoke he stopped and looked at Dean as if he was seeing another human for the first time.

Dean was flattered until a few minutes later when Castiel revealed that he had a head injury.

Then the gunfire had started, and as they crouched behind the building, Dean cursed himself for not bringing a bigger gun. Castiel was observant, though, and answered Dean’s questions easily, even if seemed a little scattered when he did. Dean was going to chalk that up to the repeated head trauma.

Since it was obvious that they knew he was here, Dean tried to raise Benny on the radio. When he didn’t answer, Dean got a sick feeling of dread in his stomach, but he forced himself not to worry just yet, if only because he had a lot more important things to worry about.

The good news about the AK was at least he knew the cops were probably going to show up any minute now, because there was no way that no one had heard the shots. Dick had specified no cops, that was true, but Dean thought he’d rather have his son back in one piece and have the kidnappers in jail than to not have either.

It wasn’t like Dick couldn’t make sure they suffered in prison.

Dean had known there was no chance of both him and Castiel making it if they ran. Not with the kind of the gun that the man Castiel called ‘Al’ had. He’d mow them both down easily. So Dean decided that he could distract him, and maybe that would give Castiel time to get out of here and to the cops. Surely, they were close by now.

Of course, what Dean hadn’t expected for Castiel to come back and try and save him. When Al had tackled him, he’d lost the AK, and Dean had felt like he could easily win a grappling match with him. Dean was definitely bigger than he was. But he’d underestimated his opponent.

Al was surprisingly strong, and he’d gained the upper hand quickly. There hadn’t been time for Dean to get the gun away before he was pressing it down, despite Dean’s best attempts at stopping him, and aiming right for his stomach.

It would have been fatal, or at least taken him out of commission for a while, so he was simultaneously grateful and irritated when Castiel had tackled Al. The gun when off anyway, but it hadn’t hit anything important. He watched in horror as Al easily pinned Castiel and then put a hand on his throat. He could see the man’s lips moving but couldn’t make out whatever words he was saying.

He hadn’t even realized he was hit until he stretched for his gun and felt a sharp pain in his side. He reached for the gun anyway, intending to put a bullet in that bastard’s head, but before he could reach it there was a van screeching to a halt a few feet from them. The door flew open, and there was a woman screaming at them that they had to go.

When Al had grabbed Castiel’s by his armpits and started dragging him backwards, Dean redoubled his efforts for his gun. At first he couldn’t see it, and when he had finally spotted it and lunged, his feet got tangled in the AK strap. It took precious seconds for him to kick it away, and it was too late by the time Dean finally closed his hands around the grip on his gun.

Still, he rolled onto his back and aimed, firing off three rounds and shattering the window so that the van. That would make it easier to find. That, along with the license plate that Dean had memorized while they were driving off, should be enough for Charlie to follow that van wherever it went. He thought he might have heard a pained shout from inside, but he couldn’t be sure over the crunch of tires on gravel.

He had heard sirens then, and cursed, rolling to his feet despite the wound in his side, and grabbing up the AK. The last thing he needed were the cops now. They’d ask questions that Dean couldn’t answer. He had to get Benny and get out of here right now.

They would have to come back later to search the room where Castiel had been held, even though Dean seriously doubted there would be anything. He started off towards where Benny was supposed to be, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t find his friends body. He’d never live it down. Not only had he lost Castiel, but he might have gotten Benny killed, as well? So much for being good at this job.

Thankfully, when he had rounded the makeshift building, he had seen Benny sitting up and rubbing at a spot on the back of his head.

“Dude, I thought you were dead!” Dean said, running to help him up.

“Nah, brother. One of snuck up behind me and clocked he in the back of the head. Didn’t hear ‘em until it was too late.” Benny scuffed his shoe on the dirt, embarrassed. “It was a rookie mistake.”

“At least you’re not dead. C’mon, we gotta get out of here. You missed the show but our friends the police should be rolling up any second now.” Dean said, glancing behind him. Together, they disappeared into the tall leaves surrounding the area. It had the long way back to the Impala, but it was far safer, especially when he could hear the cop cars pulling up as the made their way through the brush.

Making it back to the Impala had been easy, and Dean had called Charlie to update her the moment they were out of earshot of the police. He’d given her the license plate and the description of the van before they’d even pulled away from the scene.

Which lead them to now. It was only a couple of hours later, but he and Benny were set up in a room in a no-name motel, trying to figure out their next steps. The van hadn’t showed up yet, but that didn’t mean much. It could just mean they were laying low. Charlie was flying out from wherever she lived to provide them more support since this was a bigger operation than anyone had figured it would be.

Hell, Dean was just glad that Dick Roman hadn’t asked for an update. He felt shitty enough about letting Castiel slip through his fingers.

Benny hadn’t been happy about the gunshot wound on his side. It was a simple through and though that had only taken a little of his love-handle away, thanks to Castiel’s timely intervention.

He was in the middle of stitching it up when someone knocked on the door. Both he and Benny looked up, and then Dean was reaching for his gun, thread still in his hand, when he heard someone through the door.

“It’s just me, bitches, open the door for your queen!” Charlie said. Dean and Benny shared a look, and Benny stood to let her in while Dean finished tying off his stiches.

“You coulda told us you were here, Cher.” Benny said, as Charlie threw her arms around his neck.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to surprise you.” She said, letting him go and turning to Dean. “You’re stupid and reckless, do you know that?” she said, and Dean stood just in time to have her put her arms around his neck, as well. He caught her.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. How dare I get shot, I could’ve been killed…” Dean smiled and stepped back. “I know what you’re gonna say.”

“Well…okay.” She punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow, Charlie, what the hell!?”

“That’s for making me worry, asshole!” She said, turning away from him while he rubbed his arm. The girl could hit. “Anyway, based on what you told me that Castiel told you about his captors, I know who one of them is, and have a good idea on the second.” She said, sitting down at the table and pulling out her laptop.

“Okay, so the one I’m most sure about is the one Castiel called Lugosi. Her real name is Bela Talbot. She’s got a pretty decorated history, though it’s been difficult to catch her in the act. She’s good at covering her tracks.” Charlie typed something onto the computer and whirled it around to face them. The picture was a still of a gorgeous woman ducking into a shop, obviously pulled off of a surveillance camera. “She’s good at finding stuff and selling it to the highest bidder.”

“So she’s a thief.” Dean said, pressing a bandage over the stitches.

“Well, yeah, but like. A really good one.” Charlie said. “She’s been out for a couple of years, though, I don’t know why she’s resurfaced now…” Charlie frowned, the shrugged, facing the laptop forward again.

“The other one I’m almost positive about is the one you called Al. I found an Alastair Blackwood that runs in the same circles as Bela, and he’s batshit. I say that in the worst way possible. He used to be in the Army, but they cut him loose because he was too sadistic.” Dean felt his stomach drop knowing that the guy had once been belonged to the same constitution that they had. The look on Charlie’s face said the same thing. “Dishonorable discharge after he cut up some kid. He didn’t do any prison time, though. From what you said about Castiel saying he had knives, I’d be willing to bet this was your man. He’s the right height and build as what you described.” She turned the laptop back around to show them a picture of a tall, lanky man with short hair and a manic grin.

“Do you have an audio clip? The guy had a really distinct, kinda nasally voice.” Dean said. “I’m pretty sure I could tell you for sure if it was him.” Charlie took the laptop back and typed away for a few seconds.

“Yeah, here’s a video of his testimony during the court martial.” Charlie said, hitting play. Dean listened carefully to the voice as it came through the tiny speakers on Charlie’s computer.

“Yeah, that’s him.” Dean said, glancing down at the video. He had the same mannerisms, too, from what Dean could tell.

“Well, awesome. Or, not really, for Castiel’s sake, but at least we’ve got two of them down” Charlie said. “As for the other person, though, I have no idea. There’s no Sam or Samuel or Samantha or anything that I could find in any of their contacts. Maybe he’s new?” She shrugged. “I need more info to make a positive ID.” She shrugged and leaned back. “I’ve got all my feelers out searching for the van. It’s a good thing you got the tag, Dean.” She said, and looked at him.

“Yeah, well, a lot of good it did.” He said, turning away from the table. “I literally had the kid in my arms and I still lost him.” He said

“Well, technically he’s not a kid…” Charlie said, and held her hands up in defeat at the withering look Dean gave her. “You said he was acting strange and that they’d hit him in the head, right?” She said, and Dean nodded. “Well, I’m monitoring the hospitals for people coming in with head injuries matching his description, too. I don’t think they want him to die.” She said. “Or, I hope not.” She grimaced at the look on Dean’s face. “Dean, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Charlie, just stop. Please.” He said.

“She’s not wrong, Cher.” Benny said. “From what you told me, Castiel wouldn’t have gotten away anyhow, not with his head like it was.”

“Benny, I appreciate it, but just…”

“Dean, there’s no need to beat yourself up…”

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna do it anyway!” Dean half-yelled, making her stop talking. She crossed her arms and Dean sighed. “Look, we can argue about this later, but for right now, we need to find Castiel.” He bit his lip and looked out the window. “I hate to know what that bastard is doing to him right now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to drop a comment or kudos so I can get the validation I so desperately seek. (No pressure, tho)


End file.
